DISCLAIMER: I AM NOT THE OWNER OF THE TWILIGHT SAGA OR ANY OF THE CHARACTERS IN THE SERIES. THEY ARE OWNED BY STEPHENIE MEYER.

WARNING: WILL CONTAINS CORPORAL PUNISHMENT/DISCIPLINARY SPANKING, BUT NOT IN THIS CHAPTER.

WARNING: THERE WILL BE MENTIONS OF ABUSE TO AN ELEVEN-YEAR-OLD AND A TINY AMOUNT OF SCENES WITH THE ABUSE TAKING PLACE.

I hated those boys. They thought they were so cool. But they were so not.

You see, Andrew and Brandon like to pick on kids. Any kid that they see, they'll pick on them-for sure, you don't even have to wonder. Since the town of Forks is so small, all kids kindergarten through eighth grade go to the same school-Forks Elementary. There are plenty of kids for Andrew and Brandon to make fun of.

So of course when I see them walk up to two six-year-old girls with down syndrome, a scowl comes on my face.

I stand up and walk over to them. "Hey, don't pick on them! Get out of here and leave them alone!"

"And what are you gonna do about it?" Brandon asked, facing me.

I suddenly felt scared. Brandon was older than me, an eighth grader. I was only in sixth grade.

Andrew also turned around to look at me. He's an eighth grader like Brandon.

I knew what would come next. They'd beat me up. I wouldn't be the first to be beaten up by them, either.

I probably should be used to getting beat up, seeing as the monster that I was forced to call my father did it to me all the time. The woman I'm ashamed to call my mother doesn't even care. She occasionally hits me, too. Mostly when she's drunk.

No one, and I mean no one, knows about how I suffer abuse at the hands of my parents. Though parents isn't exactly a term I'd use for them.

Andrew slammed his fist into my stomach. The wind got knocked out of me and I fell backwards. I couldn't breathe. I'd been in that position before.

Brandon dragged me back up and slapped me across the face. My cheeks stung and tears developed in my eyes. I couldn't breathe and my face stung horribly. The tears fell and stung my cheeks even more than they already were stinging.

I was slipping in and out of consciousness while they were beating me up. The last thing I remembered was Mr. Thomas, my science teacher, pull the boys away from me.

I opened my eyes again. There were three paramedics around me, putting me on a stretcher.

I was about to close my eyes again when a female paramedic said, "Try not to fall asleep, honey."

Not hoping to be in any worse of a condition than this, I forced my eyes open.

Before I knew it, I was being whisked away in an ambulance, the paramedics taking care of me moving in blurs.

I knew we must have gotten to the hospital when the ambulance stop. I felt the movement come to an end as I was wheeled into the emergency room on a gurney.

I was placed on a bed and a nurse was setting up an IV. An IV meant a needle. Oh, no.

I was scared of needles. I mean, seriously-what kid isn't scared of something pointy piercing through their skin?

I closed my eyes as the needle was slid into my left hand. The nurse proceeded to gently remove the elastic from my thick, curly blond hair. "A doctor will be with you in just a second, Rosalie."

I tried to nod, but all I felt was pain. I found my voice and weakly said, "Okay, thank you."

She nodded and smiled and then walked away.

A minute had gone by when a doctor came over. He had blond hair that matched mine. He smiled warmly at me, but I couldn't trust him just yet. I was timid of all men; my so-called father had caused that. "Hello, Rosalie, I'm Dr. Cullen. I'm going to give you a quick exam and then take care of anything that needs to be taken care of. Would you like me to call your parents first?"

"No!" I exclaimed.

If Dr. Cullen was surprised, he didn't show it.

The doctor put his hand to my forehead. "It doesn't seem like you have a fever, but I'm going to take your temperature anyway," he said. "Can you open up?"

I wearily opened my mouth. Dr. Cullen put a thermometer under my tongue.

"Alright, I'm going to check the bruise on your cheek. It says you were hit there, correct?" Dr. Cullen asked, looking at the file in his hands.

"Mmm-hmm," I said, not being able to say much with the thermometer in my mouth.

I winced as he touched the bruise on my right cheek. "Sorry, honey. Okay, I don't think that there's anything seriously wrong, just a bruise and you'll be a bit sore for a few days. Just be sure to ice it. Now, let's see what your temperature is."

He took the thermometer out of my mouth. "Normal. Alright, now I'm going take a look at your stomach and your chest. You were punched there, right?"

"Yes."

"Are you comfortable with taking your shirt off so I can look?"

I hesistated before answering. "Um..."

He looked to his right and smiled as he saw someone walking over. "Esme, this is Rosalie. Rosalie, this is my wife, Esme," Dr. Cullen explained. Esme smiled at me and I found the courage to smile back. "Are you okay with me pulling your shirt up while she's here?"

Okay, if there was a woman there, I could deal with that. "Sure."

"I'll give you some privacy," he said, walking to the right of the ER.

I began to pull up my shirt when Esme stopped me. "Sweetheart, you look like you're in a lot of pain. Let me help."

Soon, the shirt was off along with my bra (this was so embarrassing) and the white blanket was pulled up to my neck.

Dr. Cullen walked back over. "Are you ready, sweetie?"

No, truthfully I wasn't, but I wanted to get this over with. "Okay."

I squeezed my eyes shut as he pulled the blanket down and closed the curtain, giving us privacy from the other emergency room patients.

"Ow," I said, the pain evident in my voice, as Dr. Cullen touched one of my ribs.

"It's most likely broken. We'll have that x-rayed." Although he said that just like he had said anything else, confusion played on his face. He must have noticed my glance so he said, "Rosalie, there's no report of you being punched right where this rib is located. Did something else happen beforehand?"

A painful memory of the previous night flashed through my head. It took place at the stairs. My father was screaming at me.

And then he threw me into the railing on the stairs.

I had caught myself on it before it could snap, but my rib hit it very hard. And though the pain was so strong, I had been forced to go to school.

"Uh...I don't...I don't...I don't really, um, well...I don't really...really remember," I lied.

Very smooth, Rosalie, I sarcastically thought to myself.

No one could know about the abuse, about the hitting, the beating.

I caught Dr. Cullen and Esme share a glance. They clearly knew that I was lying. I didn't mean for it to be that obvious.

"I'm going to wheel you down to get that rib of yours x-rayed. It won't take long," Dr. Cullen assued me when he saw my face fill with worry when he mentioned about the x-ray.

I felt the bed being moved and I looked up to see Esme walking beside it. She was really nice; she didn't even have to be here and yet she was. It was weird because she cared enough about me to be here. She smiled at me sadly and I could see it in her eyes that she felt bad for me that I had to go through being bullied, hurt, and in the emergency room.

We were soon at x-ray and Dr. Cullen carefully lifted me onto the x-ray table.

I whimpered as he turned on some machine. The noise and sudden light that it gave out made me afraid for some reason.

"It's okay, honey," the doctor reassued me.

It was fast, the process of taking x-rays. Dr. Cullen wheeled my bed to the children's ER this time. The environment there was a bit more, I don't know, what's a good word-kiddish, maybe?

The walls were painted yellow and the doctors and nurses were full of smiles. They all spoke in soothing voices.

This was very different from my house.

"Rosalie, this cut on your leg needs stitches," Dr. Cullen said as he placed a needle and thread on the hospital table next to my bed. "It doesn't say that either one of the boys hurt you leg, though, on your file."

I internally winced. Should I just come out and say it?

Yes, I should.

Tears were developing in my eyes. I wiped them away quickly. "Um...they didn't do that. Someone else did."

"Who did, sweetheart?" he asked.

"My-my father. My so-called father did this to me and it's not the first time," I hissed through my teeth. I felt a few tears slide down my cheeks.

"Oh," I heard Esme gasp and she covered her face with her hands. "I'll be right back," she said, speed walking out of the children's emergency room.

Dr. Cullen looked at me sadly. "And to your rib?"

I weakly nodded, pain welling up in my neck and head.

"Don't move, honey. It'll just hurt more."

"Okay," I said, more like croaked, in my little voice.

"Dr. Cullen?" I asked.

He looked at me. "You can call me Carlisle, Rosalie."

"Alright. Carlisle? Why did Esme leave?"

He smiled. "She's a very loving person. She couldn't bear to see you in pain."

"But she doesn't even know me. God, I can't believe this. I always ruin everyone's lives. I made her stay with me when she didn't even have to."

"Do your parents tell you that you always ruin everyone's lives?"

"Yup."

"That's absolutely not true, Rosalie. Esme was thrilled to have the oppurtunity to look after you. We don't have any kids of our own, so she always comes down to the hospital to talk to and comfort the kids."

Esme walked back over and smiled at me. "That's right. We don't really have time to have kids."

Just then someone called, "Dr. Cullen, can you come check this out?"

"Be right back," Carlisle said, heading down toward the direction of the voice that requested for him to go over there.

Esme continued, "Carlisle's head doctor here, so you know how busy that makes him, having to oversee all practices. And the paperwork he has to do is incredible. We do sit with each other while he does it, but he couldn't take care of a baby while doing that. He was just promoted, so he's still getting used to this. It would be hard to have a baby at this time. I also have a job that takes all my hours. I'm a clothing designer and I'm working on beginning my own company. And Carlisle's father works here at the hospital, too. You'll have to meet him. My father's a lawyer. My mom and Carlisle's mom are the best of friends, but we can't make them watch a baby all day. So it's just hard for us."

I guess I felt kind of honored that Esme shared that all with me. I also felt sad for her. She would most definitely, without a doubt, be a terriffic mother.

I prayed that a miracle would come to them and they'd have time to have a baby.

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